Atroquinine Angels: A Toxic Dalhstoph Tale by PPOD & JP
by Peoplepersonsof DooM
Summary: What if when Phoenix got disbarred there was more than one wicked genius behind his downfall? What would have happened if Dahlia Hawthorne was never executed, as she got exonerated thanks to her new BF… Kristoph Gavin? AU dark comedy about the pretty poisonous pair who prove that shared hatred is better than love! Will evil prevail in the end? WATCH OUT, PHOENIX!
1. Guileless Gamines

**Atroquinine Angels: A Toxic Dalhstoph Tale by JP & PPOD**

_PPOD: Well, there's not much for me to say other than the fact that I'm super excited to work with JP on a collab story! I've been wanting to for a couple of years actually, and I'm glad to finally have something in the works. Though, I am surprised it turned out to be a story about our favorite poisoners…but happy none the less to see madness is brought out by writing :D. Hope you enjoy what sick twisted ideas come to fruition here especially since I adore Kristoph as my favorite AA villain. I think he deserves some special treatment hehehe…_

_JP: At last! A mingled collaboration with my pal Lyn, and I couldn't be more stoked to Wright my first ever AU with my fave funny lady! This intro chapter may seem familiar to those who read the long-since discontinued project, Timeless Love, awhile back. However, I was so enthused about writing Satan's Succubus that I just had to conglomerate the former Dollie and Iris one-shots and use them as the prelude to this Bad Romance – and trust us, this ain't no fairy-tale! But since I'm working with such a hilarious co-writer, expect twisted hijinks to ensue!_

_IMPORTANT NOTE, while some incidents of this tale may mirror the games, please disregard the dates featured here, as timelines/sequence of events had to warp in our darkly comedic FF to make this Match Made in Hell work!_

_Without further ado, hope y'all enjoy the toxic twosome known as Dalhstoph!_

* * *

**Chapter One: ** **Guileless Gamines**

**Forest Woods, Ivy University**  
**August 27, 2013**

He pulled her face up to his with one of his hands, his kisses urgent – as though he hadn't kissed a girl in ages and he needed it like he needed air to breathe. His other hand ran over her collarbone, down to her décolletage area, caressing her skin with the pads of his fingers with astonishingly seductive precision.

Assuming you were into that sort of thing. Which she most certainly _wasn't_ – never had been, never would be!

Like all the others, this besotted fool was merely the ends to justify the means. Or in this particular case, the keeper of his newly bequeathed necklace, which she needed to ensure her kept stashed away for her, until the heat died down!

This would prove to be a slightly daunting feat, as thus far, they'd only exchanged nothing more than lightly flirtatious banter in the university library for approximately the past half hour. Subsequently, it was why she had then coyly led her future conquest/patsy out for this forest rendezvous behind the school, where the two were now making out like bandits.

It was the perfect place for this illicit tryst. Or, as she'd delicately suggested, with her perfected dulcet giggle, where they could continue their delightful conversation and "get to know one another better… _privately."_

_Thus, getting to know his __**privates**_ _will have to be part of my action plan!_

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and she urgently needed to secure this dork's unwavering devotion. The fail-proof way to achieve this would be by means of the most infallible method she knew: by allowing her beguiling beauty to speak the universal language that _all_ her stupid male play-things fell victim to, thanks to their mindless ever-raging libidos!

She despised breaking in untrained virgins, but a man of more worldly experience with the fairer sex undoubtedly wouldn't have been seduced this easily by her feminine wiles. This specific loser had folded like a bad poker hand, with merely some simpering flattery and coquettish eyelash batting! He hadn't had a prayer!

After all, no man alive could resist Dahlia Lilith Hawthorne.

The one exception, of course, would be that nosy Diego Armando. He was obviously loyal to that overly busty-bitch, Mia Fey. But look where _that_ had gotten him in the end!

If only the defense attorney had been like all the others, and simply acquiesced to her whims in the first place! Had that been the case, she wouldn't have been left with zero choices but to resort to plan B: their fateful, innocuous coffee date…

Phoenix's hands were now roaming over her breasts, almost hesitantly, and she pressed them firmly into the questing path of his fingers, an unpredicted sigh of contentment escaping her, as his ministrations weren't entirely objectionable.

_I hate to admit it, but this buffoon seems to have a certain gift for knowing what a girl wants, when, how and where. If I didn't know better, I'd think he'd used those seemingly skilled hands for things other than painting…or on himself!_

He moved his lips down her neck, down the bodice of her dress, lifting the skirt to stroke her inner thigh while his mouth continued to devour her throat, and she emitted an involuntary whimper of pleasure.

"Mmm, I love the sounds you make, my sweet Dollie." His breath was warm against her ear, jolting her from savoring the sensations he was arousing within her.

_Ugh, I __**hate**__ sappy talk! The doofus just_ _**had**__ to ruin it didn't he? Just as well. Mustn't lose focus on the end goal…_

"_Talk_ is cheap, Feenie, wouldn't you say?" She murmured silkily, while expertly divesting him of his polo and skillfully unzipping his fly. "I'm more a girl of _action_."

As she boldly wrapped her hand around his sizable, rigid member and saw his torso for the first time, she felt a jolt of surprise at what she'd unveiled.

_Well, what do we have here? Guess the geek's nowhere near as scrawny under that baggy T-shirt as I'd primarily assumed. Who'd have known an art_ _student wouldn't be purely skin and bones, but instead actually have some sculpted shape going on?!_

Dahlia ran her palms over his defined chest and kissed his neck, then nipped his collar bone as her hand slipped lower, tracing his six-pack, before heading further south. He shivered at her touch, making her sneer triumphantly against his skin.

_**This**__ is more like it! They're supposed to be putty in __**my**__ hands, __**not**__ vice versa!_

He hastily shoved the front of her dress down to her waist, so her white mounds were now uncovered for the touch of his fervent hands.

She tried not to moan her arousal as he lowered his head to plant kisses over her neck and shoulders. The redhead jolted slightly as his inexperienced caresses grew bolder, his mouth trailing down to her cleavage to her breasts, licking heatedly at the now stiffened nubs. In an embarrassing effort to mask her rapturous responses, she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, nibbling lightly at his lips, then moving to his throat. He seemed to enjoy it immensely when she gently nipped and sucked at his neck.

Without warning, he lunged at her, pushing her back against the sycamore tree behind them. She gasped at the jarring stab of sharp bark against her naked back but momentarily forgot the discomfort as he lowered his lips to trail them again over her bared bosom. As she writhed in his arms, he continued lavishing attention her heaving chest and the sensitive peaks, alternately sucking, then blowing cool air on the hypersensitive flesh made moist by his eager mouth, making her tingle and arch her back.

Dahlia's unplanned responsiveness resulted in the feeling of _him_ being the one to smile against _her_ skin this time.

"You're so beautiful, Dollie," he whispered dotingly. "You look like a painting."

She kept her voice as sweet as honey to mask her irritation at his lame attempts to make this romantic. He was her pawn, her prey. This clandestine affair was merely additional insurance to ensure the deal was sealed. _Nothing more._

"How about we _keep_ savoring that sexy silence, Feenie?"

The spiky-haired student grinned at her like a goofy, lovesick puppy. Quickly nodding his obedience, he then resumed pressing his eager lips against her heaving breasts. The redhead rocked her hips a little, as her encaged position against the sycamore didn't allow much scope to move and reached down to stroke his flat stomach, drawing circles on the side of his abs were he seemed to be little bit ticklish, resulting in him burying his lips against her neck while lightly biting, making her audibly gasp.

_This vampire boy had best not give me a hickey!_

The seductress pulled him in closer so their forms were pressed tighter together, and her stinging back was slightly lifted off the tree trunk. She kissed her way up his throat, running her hands through the black spikes, which were surprisingly softer than they looked, and he groaned blissfully. He stepped forward slightly so she was pressed back against the tree as he bucked his pelvis against hers.

She bit his earlobe, a little harder than needed, and drew circles on it with the tip of her tongue. The next thing she knew, Phoenix's not-exactly-manicured nails zealously ripped at her sheer pantyhose, then tore off her wispy panties.

His hands, his soft, art student hands, gripped her forcefully by the hips, exactly where it mattered, where some previously unknown demonic set of nerve receptors were now waiting to be found and used as buttons on a game controller. It was impossible for her to know if it was him moving or if she was doing it herself.

_Not that it was a distinction to be lingered on till much later, _ _if at all, although, in some circles, it'd be held to be something of a big deal…_

Suddenly, Dahlia was shoved forcefully back against the gnarled, twisted tree trunk again as he hitched one of her knees over his hip while he pushed the skirt of her dress up to her stomach, before reaching around her back and lifting her effortlessly. She deftly wrapped her legs around his waist as he positioned his throbbing hardness against her womanhood.

"Are you ready, Dollie?" he asked softly, his smitten gaze never leaving her face.

_Am I supposed to be thinking this is sweet, him asking permission? If only he knew I'm still tighter than a fish's vagina, so it does hurt a bit if I'm not loosened up. I do pelvic floor exercises to keep it that way, as I don't want my body to show signs of the activities it participates in on a very regular basis. Ergo, because Feenie dearest hasn't pre-emptively loosened me with those impossibly soft fingers, he's probably just checking that it's not going to hurt me. If it does, I have zero qualms biting or scratching him in return!_

She nodded her head in muted assent.

Both of his hands dropped to her backside, lifting her higher until he found her entrance, teasing her with the promise of filling her completely, and then he joined them, with so little inconvenience that she realized she _must_ have actually been turned on by his neophyte lips and hands, without even realizing it.

_Luckily, he's not hung like a horse, like some guys I've been with, although considerably still larger than average…_

Phoenix eased himself forward, moving very gently to allow her to adjust to him, but since it was her reflex to clench herself tightly every time, she still winced slightly at the intimate invasion.

_Hrrnh! Great fiery balls of Abaddon! _ _The little dweeb isn't exactly cursed by nature at least size-wise!_ _ He's bigger than I gave him initial credit for!_ _Even with minimal foreplay, he's rock hard! I could hang my parasol on that thing!_

The long-ago perfected capability to mentally disengage her mind from her body, and keep them as two entirely separate entities so she could remain coolly detached from the coitus itself, and all accompanying impressions were _not_ working this time! _This_ one was ensuring she remained in the moment _with_ him.

_Whatever he might lack in expertise_,_ he's sure making up for with vigorous enthusiasm!_

He groaned loudly and moved his head to roughly capture her lips with his, mashing them against hers, forcing her to respond. He put his hand on her chin and pulled her jaw down so she'd part her lips to allow entrance for his plundering tongue. As it entered her mouth, she gently sucked on it with precise expertise. He nibbled on her lower lip and bit it, then drew back and stared searchingly into her eyes.

Phoenix's dark blue orbs were swirling with lust, desire, and helplessly undisguised ardour. They were intense and smouldering. She didn't want to look at them too much. His eyes probed hers, as if looking for signs of something, although she wasn't sure she wanted to know what. She dropped her glance, not liking the intensity of his stare.

_His gaze is slightly unnerving, I've seen that look before; all these hopelessly enamoured men, wanting more than I will ever give, and I've always hated it!_

Not wanting to regard that lovesick expression anymore, she wondered if it was too late to somehow ask if there was any way for him to turn her the other way, and take her from behind instead. Most men had no objections to this, as it made them go deeper and harder. Moreover, she wouldn't have to kiss them or look at them, and could even take care of herself with her own dainty fingertips if she so desired; none of the other boorish brutes she'd known ever bothered trying pleasing her, all of them too wrapped up in their own selfish pleasure.

To be fair, if any of them had actually desired to be solicitous, it wasn't like she would've ever allowed it! Sex was nothing more than her weapon, in the game where _she_ was sole predator and _men_ were the prey. She staunchly refused to give these stupid, infatuated males any sort of domination over her by letting them give her release.

Control was power, something that was exclusively Dahlia's. It was hers alone to wield over these snivelling, drooling, dogs, with only mindless humping as their priority. They were no more penises that could talk; her playthings to ensnare in her clutches and bend to her every will and need.

Phoenix increased his speed and pants. Almost on their own accord, she ran her hands down his toned back, digging her nails in a little, to scratch him, mimicking the brash tree trunk jutting into her back and shoulder blades with each movement. The agony of the rough texture against her delicate skin had been forgotten in the heat of the moment because he felt too damn good to think of anything but the fullness of him as he receded, then kept filling her again and again and again. In this glorious, yet acrobatic, position, he rubbed against her deepest, innermost places, with unforeseen gratification triggering each penetrating movement. Her arms began to tremble with fatigue as she clung tightly to his shoulders, but subconsciously, she didn't want him to stop just yet. Not when she was so close…

_No_! Her breath caught with shock in her throat. _This can't happen! I mustn't allow it! I can't let myself ever lose the power of having the upper hand…_

A low snarl emanated from her throat as her traitorous body let her mind know she was fighting a losing battle.

"Oh. Oh. Oh,_ yes!" _her vocalizations grew louder and needier with each gyration. Her excitement and hedonism built and built and built, and then something happened which _never_ had before. "_Oh, Feenie…Yessssss!"_

Dahlia Hawthorne lost all control. Of her mind, her senses, and her body…all at the same time.

She experienced something which dozens, no, _countless_ men had failed to give her. There was a burst of light, and she felt herself entering a kind of black hole in her soul, in which intense pain and fear of the unfamiliar sensation mingled with total bliss, pushing her beyond all previously known limits.

Her back arched and she tensed around him. There was the painful scraping of the tender flesh on her back against the sharp bark, coupled with the unanticipated, unadulterated carnality of the act as he kept pressing on, while her rapturous cries came flooding out of her mouth, her pores, her eyes, and her skin.

Her ululating, unhinged obscenities echoed loudly against the high treetops in the otherwise stillness of the woods, yet she was unable to stop herself from the euphoric shrieking, not until her throat was dry and raw.

Phoenix's hips gave a final jerk as his own release followed hers, then he held still, waiting for her to regain her bearings.

_"Wow,"_ he murmured against her throat, and Dahlia silently echoed his sentiment, even though she would have rather died than admit it!

She still couldn't fathom how such a thing had happened!

Long moments passed where they both tried to catch their breaths. When her body relaxed, he drew back, she unlocked her ankles, and then he squatted and lowered her feet to the ground. The moment he stepped away from her, reality hit her like a slap in the face, and along with it came a heaping dose of the shame she could feel scorching her cheeks as she trailed a limp hand down her visage.

"Are you OK, my sweet Dollie?" He asked tenderly, looking remorseful as he noticed the angry red scratches and bruises forming on her ivory shoulders. "I'm sorry if I didn't take it as easy as I should have … it's been a while for me! But …_wow_, right?"

_What the hell? _ _A while_?!_ The wimpy little geek wasn't a virgin?!_ _ This wasn't merely beginner's luck? I had him pegged all wrong?! How could that be?! Grrr … I think I want to kill him even more now…and I __**would**__ if I didn't need him still!_

"You could say that." She plastered a saccharine smile on her lips and laughed, somewhat maniacally. "Yes, _wow_, Feenie. That was…"

"…_Magical_. It was the most perfect moment of my life. I'm glad it was good for _you,_ too." His cheeks coloured with embarrassment as he painfully stretched his arms. "Can you stand? I didn't think I could hold you that way much longer. I was getting tired. I guess I need to work out more – lift something heavier than paintbrushes! Heh, heh."

_Most guys couldn't hold me like that for fifteen seconds much less fifteen minutes! But I refuse to give him any more of an ego boost. The first time in my life when I haven't needed to fake it and it was with … _ _**this**__ dweeb?!_

Self-conscious now, she used the heavy trunk to pull herself fully back her feet and looked away as she quickly tugged the top of her dress back into place and unrolled the skirt, which had been bunched at her waist. Now that their mutual itch had been scratched, she had no idea what to do or how to proceed. Moreover, Phoenix didn't seem inclined to dispel the awkwardness and uncertainty settling over her while he made some clothing adjustments of his own.

She reached down for her parasol, keeping her burning face turned away while hoping he'd get the hint and give her some space.

Instead, he snaked his arms around her waist and kissed his way up her neck.

Despite the liaison that they'd just shared, she stiffened at the personal touch.

_I mean don't get me wrong, I suppose this feels nice, but the lovey-dovey crap that people expect after sex just makes it harder to distance yourself from the emotional side of it. No one can hurt you if you detach yourself from everything and avoid becoming emotionally invested in anyone. That's why I don't do snuggles. After the feeling of ecstasy, I don't want to feel lust or that fake feeling of love. I want to relish in the high I get from having sex and nothing more. I don't want to be reminded of what else they_ _want from me, and what_ _I don't want from them_ _..._ _ and will tenaciously decline to ever give them! Especially __**this**__ one, whom I despise more than the rest, for making my own body betray me like that!_

What had just happened to her, in response to a lover, wasn't like her in the least. Nevertheless, it was impossible to ignore the tiny thrill of excitement which slid up her spine that because of her body betraying her in such an unexpected manner, she had experienced uninhibited ecstasy with a partner … for the _first_ time in her life!

Right now, if she was going to keep the police off her trail, she had to forget about basking in the afterglow, as she had some serious simpering and convincing to do with her latest conquest now that she'd sweetened the pot.

The unbridled fury and self-loathing for this would come later.

* * *

**Dahlia Hawthorne's Journal  
August 28, 2013**

_The good news is with my sure-fire "honeypot" method, I got the doofus to take the necklace! Good ol' Feenie never knew what hit him, and now dopily thinks that we're an item, simply because we frolicked in the woods! Normally I would laugh at this sort of pathetic, simple naïveté, about how he presumptuously assumes that just because he brought me where no man has ever brought me before, it means that I now belong to him and will be eagerly back for more! Sure, I told_ _him as much, but that's hardly the point!_

The infuriated siren tapped the ballpoint pen against her teeth with a sharp clacking sound, lost in contemplation as she tried to compose her scrambled thoughts.

_The thing is, I still can't understand how I let such a thing happen. It's not as if I merely finished with a _ _tiny ripple_ _– because the extent of the explosion I experienced would have __**topped the Richter scale!**_

_**I still hate myself for that – for allowing it to happen – almost more than I loathe him for making my own body turn against me!**_

_How_ _could I have possibly lost such control? Aside from the still raw, ravaged welts on my back from it getting up so _ _up close and personal_ _ with that accursed tree trunk, which the overly enthusiastic idiot _ _repeatedly pummeled_ _ me against, my so-called new boyfriend left _ _another_ _ kind of lingering mark on me as well – _ _**in **__**my **__**mind**__ – and it's driving me absolutely crazy! None of the others were like this in the least!_

_It's not as if the dweeb was only at half-mast and he thrashed around wildly inside me, hoping I wouldn't notice, and the end result was the usual aching lady parts. I've gotten used to this with all the others, and somehow even found it pleasing; it meant once I'd gotten him to do whatever I needed him to do, I'd be able to get free of him now; I thought, so long as he isn't a good lay, I'll be able to forget him._

_The more forgettable, the less regrettable. It's always been my motto. So many men that were plagued with premature ejaculation, impotence, and other sexual dysfunctions…and of course, some were just so flat out laughable, I couldn't forget them for the life of me!_

_I remember vividly how pitiful Terry Fawles was. He made it very clear I was his first, despite being six years my senior. That retarded loser was also pathetically shy, so it was almost touching. He liked to leave the lights off and reach for me under the covers as if we were doing something that had to be kept secret. He'd buried his face in my chest, mumbling my name over and over again while he rubbed against my leg as I felt his fat, bloated man thing bumping me clumsily._

_It made me think of a Newfoundland puppy, a creature whose gawky, immature, undisciplined behavior was completely inappropriate to its size._

_He'd spend ages paying too much attention to my breasts and not much else – that overgrown adolescent, sucking, but too hard, making me sore and angry. But as soon as those thoughts passed through my mind, they were drowned out by a roar of remorse. So, I'd just lay there, moving my body lightly, trying to set off a spark, something that I, or, less likely, he, could fan into a flame. Terry was in for the long haul at my chest. He was hesitant, always had been, about touching me anywhere below the waist, as if it might be disrespectful to do so…_

_Then, of course, there was Doug Swallow. That stuck-up, British Wannabe ..._ _**Minute**__**Man!**_

_In his dorm room, he used his hands to hold my head, moved it with deliberate but tempered force— far more than a suggestion— from a spot on his neck to his chest to himself. He kept his hands pressed firmly to my ears, then played with strands of my hair. That was his idea of foreplay. Despite being lame in the sack, for some reason, he was so damn cocksure...so sure of himself!_

_I recall how I felt the same taut, sure strength in his hips as they pressed into me, forcing me to press back... With his hips, he pulled me along to the edge of sensation, and then let me pull back ever so slightly, and back and forth and back and forth. I always felt as if I were getting ready for a dive, jumping up and down on the end of the diving board to get a feel for the springs. Tighter than I'd expected. Nevertheless, I never offered any resistance and feigned as though I'd finished right before he did. Then he'd catch his breath – that _ _**60 seconds**__ of activity obviously exerted him! – and pull the covers back up, before kissing me on the cheek, a quick good-night kiss then rolled over and slept by himself, not even noticing as I crept out of the room._

_I'm sure that Anglophile loves to tell people __**he**__ broke up with __**me**__! But the truth was, he cried like a little bitch_ _once I'd gotten what I needed from him and told him it was over. He wept like an infant as if he hoped to sway me with his tears._

_I can't abide to see a man cry. Weak. Pathetic. Loser. As I took my eyes off him, he crumpled. How could he expect me to love him when he wore his heart on his sleeve like a goddamn girl?! No balls, none whatsoever. I let my eyes flick briefly back to his reddened face – it nearly matched his hair – and his expression was just as forlorn as my weak-willed sister's the day she and I parted ways. I remember how my phone pinged to remind me of my manicure. I let out a hefty sigh and flicked my hair over my shoulder. "It's over, Dougie. Don't call me again. I like a clean break. Done is done. K?"_

_Did he really think I'd have an attachment to him merely because I'd let him have what __**he thought was sex**__ with me?!_

_I've learned long that sleeping with a man was something strictly for _ _**his**__ enjoyment, and it was something I'd long ago learned to endure, because a few moments of tending to their primal urges had gotten me through a lifetime of eagerly bestowed favors from the male gender, all leaping to do my every desire._

_This son-of-a-bitch Phoenix Wright … He somehow messed up my entire operation. He was __**different**__. His hands… I can't get them out of my mind. They were tender… sensual. They weren't oversized and clumsy, like Terry's. Or stiff and mechanical like Doug's. Or cold and rough, like my father's…_

_Dammit! I can't venture down this path again, or how this nightmare all began because that sick bastard left me no alternative but to be resorted to jewel thievery and conspiracy, just to get the hell out of that house!_

_The bottom line is if I ever set eyes on Phoenix Wright again…_

_**I. Will. **__**Fucking. Kill. Him.**_

_Of course, this just won't do, since I need to lay low, what with the whole Diego incident. Also, you know, because a lot of people still think __**I'm dead**__!_

_But ultimately, I don't trust myself around that artsy geek. The mere notion of allowing him to seduce me ...Touch me again and throw all inhibition out the window once more makes me recoil faster than a snapped high-tension spring!_

_And yet, I know I need_ _to see him again since I've __**got**__ to get that necklace back! The question is, __**how?!**_

Dahlia looked up from her desk and caught sight of her angry reflection in the vanity mirror next to it, noticing the glimmer of fiery hatred glowing in her dark orbs as she thought of her latest lover/obstacle. With a smirk, she suddenly changed tactics entirely and rearranged her features into the docile mask which brought all men to their knees.

Immediately, her hostile visage was replaced with a serene, angelic one, and she lowered her gaze demurely, in the same manner in which she had seen her sister do on countless occasions.

Of course, whenever her meek, mild-mannered,_ identical twin_ would wear the same expression, it was actually _genuine_.

A cruel, supercilious smiled played on the titian-haired girl's full lips, and giggling manically to herself, she resumed penning the diary entry.

_Iris. Of course. Why didn't I think of my __**living, breathing mirror reflection**__ before? I know she'll help me out. After all, I unwittingly did her a favor by allowing her to be spared by having her sent away from father's Hellacious House of Horrors to Hazakura Temple. That girl OWES ME._

_And after all, __**what are sisters for?**_

* * *

**Ivy University Campus  
September 4, 2013**

_Stop panicking, darn it!_ Iris lectured herself sternly, clutching her snowy parasol so tightly, her knuckles turned as white as the dress she was wearing. _Remember not to fidget, and for the love of God, do not forget that your name is __**Dahlia**__ and not __**Iris**__! You answer to __**Dollie, **__just like you've been doing all week while talking to Phoenix on the phone in order to placate him until you finally ran out of lame excuses about why you've been too busy to see him again up until now! That's why you're here today, at last, posing as a student on this campus!_

The anxious shrine maiden felt her insides quaking as she closed in on the large campus Oak tree where she would be meeting her "boyfriend" for the first time. Well, technically it would be the _second_ time meeting for _him_… With the poor, unsuspecting young man never knowing it'd be the premier time _this_ "Dollie" had ever set eyes on him!

"Just look for the dork with the stupid spiky black hair and goony, lovesick expression who is wearing a vial of poison around his neck as a symbolic token of my love for him!" Dahlia had snapped peevishly when asked for a description of Phoenix while rolling her eyes disgustedly at the seemingly distasteful memory of the art student. "Trust me, _he'll_ recognize _you_ right away, and then cling to you like a burr_,_ so be prepared for some nauseatingly schmoopy declarations of ardour! Keep one thing in mind: whatever he says, just go with it! Everything will be fine – as long as you don't break character! You got that, _dear sister_?"

Iris _got it_, all right! Nevertheless, the emphasis on how much was at stake hardly stopped her insides from quivering like a bowl full of Jell-O!

The newly dyed redhead clutched at the Tupperware in her free hand, bearing the miniature omelets she'd made for this lunchtime rendezvous. She mentally willed her fingers to shop shaking, lest she blew the entire ruse and risk not only disappointing her twin but be forced to endure her sister's matchless fury thereafter. She shuddered at the thought of what Dahlia was capable of if Iris failed this mission.

As she approached the lean guy anxiously pacing beneath the shaded tree, she noted the young man had the form of an adult, but not the confidence. He paced about awkwardly, as though still taking that tall body for a test drive, as if not really sure if it was his for keeps. A few female students passed by him and shot a few lingering gazes his way, but as he returned the glance, there was a visible hint of brief shyness flashing over his visage before he turned away. He then resumed looking around him with a lost, puppy dog expression on his face, which lit up as he spotted his "girlfriend" at last.

Iris kept the serene smile on her lips despite her rapidly thudding heart as she neared him. If Feenie were to sense her frayed nerves, the jig would be up before it had even begun!

His doting gaze met hers, and her mind went blank about what she could possibly say or do now that she'd finally set eyes on her alleged beau.

Compared to her tiny stature, Phoenix seemed tall, north of six-foot she'd say, and despite being in arts, not athletics, she could make out some muscle tone to his torso and partially bared arms, which were only covered by a black T-shirt, and were presently reaching out for her.

_He must work out – jog or bike ride – to have amassed any sort of build, since wielding a paintbrush is hardly aerobic_…

Iris abruptly stopped herself train of though. This was supposed to be a short and sweet task as a favor to her sister, and _nothing else_, including pondering about how he'd gotten his physique!

Even though she knew he was two years older than she was, he seemed so much younger than she'd expected. A gamin more than man. In her elusive and largely unflattering descriptions of the art major, Dahlia had failed to mention that about him. She'd also failed to mention Phoenix's eyes. They were dark, but they weren't brown. More of a dark blue – but she didn't want to stare long enough to find out, lest she not be able to look away again.

And staring was exactly what she was doing right now as she gazed into those mesmerizing indigo depths.

_His eyes are such a midnight blue; yet blue still didn't even begin to explain all the complicated depths and colors that were there, too. This deep shade of blue eyes is something I've never seen before. They are so mesmerizing that it's as if they're looking deep into my soul. I cannot take my eyes off them and I can feel my heart beating so fast it, could probably power the whole city._

She bit her lip. How could she start a conversation when she didn't even know the boy? Then, in that instant, he turned and caught her eye.

Before she could timorously turn away, a genuine grin spread across his face, turning it from simply nice-looking into something divine. At that moment she felt her body flush warm. This was a guy she wanted to know more than she'd ever felt before.

"_Dollie_!" He enthused, pulling her into his arms without preamble. "You're finally here! I've missed you _so_ much!"

Iris stiffened at the unfamiliar, but certainly not unpleasant, touch. She barely noticed her parasol and plastic food container falling harmlessly to the grass beneath their feet from the effusiveness of the clasp. As a nun at the temple, the strange sensation of being embraced against a hard, male body was uncustomary, yet quite nice. She tried to relax and return the hug, while training her eyes on the green scenery around them, attempting to ignore his subtle cologne while she tried not to enjoy this _too_ much.

_Why does he have to smell that way? I don't need more confusion..._

Phoenix finally drew back slightly and stared down into the ethereal perfection of those doll-like features. He hadn't thought it possible, but his Dollie had gotten even _more_ breathtaking in the agonizing _seven days_ since he'd seen her last. He adored those dark, luminous doe orbs, the color of a large stain of wood and ebony pigment. Their size gave a sense of innocence and purity. They were fringed about with very long, soot-black lashes and arched over by the most delicately shaped dark eyebrows. That radiant visage with a brilliant shine that illuminated the summers, that high arched nose and the tiny curve on her lips … that rich titian hair cascading down her porcelain face …

_She's as pure as the first raindrop from heaven._

Phoenix tried to look into her eyes, his favourite feature of hers, but they kept darting away. Her gaze was never direct, preferring a bashful, earthbound focus.

"Did you miss me too?" He asked tenderly.

Iris' mouth was almost too dry to speak. She nodded like an idiot but somehow managed to utter, "of course I did, Feenie."

Then her gaze slid to the side. She could feel the growing coalescence in her cheeks. By now they must be beyond an attractive rosiness – they surely must be marking her out as a social incompetent! She felt as if all her insecurities were plainly written across her face and there was nowhere to hide. As her anxieties mounted, they became a circle; like a song stuck on repeat.

Phoenix was more than a tad perplexed. In spite of how intimate they'd been at their initial introduction; he didn't want his precious Dollie to think that was _all_ he was interested in! And besides, they could hardly re-enact the scene of their first meeting right now anyway since they were in clear view of everyone on the campus lawn – not that he would be entirely against it in the future! However, it was odd that she'd given herself to him so freely just a week ago, and was now behaving so skittishly, as though she'd never experienced his touch before! Perhaps she was diffident about showing her affections in public with so many witnesses afoot?

But all he was doing was hugging her this time, not trying to tear her clothes off – _again_!

Undaunted – and unable to stop himself from touching her, he pulled her against his chest once more and leaned down to bury his face in her neck and breathe in her sweet scent, his nose tickling her ear.

Iris let out a tiny gasp and squirmed slightly as she felt his lips softly graze her slender neck. She had no idea how to react to being so intimately handled. She turned her head to the side to avert her gaze, but the sudden rosiness of her cheeks gave her away. When she finally was able to summon enough courage to turn her still heated visage to meet his gaze, she was startled to note his spellbinding eyes were twinkling with teasing affection.

_He knows! He's __**trying**__ to make me feel like this!_

Iris jerked free from his grasp, her pulse racing, and felt her face turn redder. She quickly gestured to the fallen container.

"Are you hungry, Feenie? Um, I made us mini omelets for lunch."

"Sounds good!" He replied amiably, giving her a slightly puzzled smile but sinking down onto the plush grass while the shrine maiden served the food. The two ate in companionable silence, much to Iris' relief, as she was too perturbed by her unanticipated attraction to him to say much!

Fortunately for her, Phoenix kept up an easy flow of chatter which slowly coaxed her out of her shell, letting her know about his courses and projects he was working on. He was very witty, making the odd quip or joke that made her feel more relaxed in his company, as though she'd known him forever, and she almost forgot she was playing a role, as she hadn't expected to enjoy this so much.

After they'd eaten, the spiky-haired student leaned back on his elbows and beamed at her.

"That was delicious. Thank you, Dollie." He reached up to lightly place a hand on her upper back, partially bared due to the off-the-shoulder design of the dress. "You're an angel."

Iris nearly jumped out of her skin at the unexpected heat of his hand, despite the innocence of the gesture. The reflex action was impossible to miss, and his brow wrinkled with concern.

"Oops, I guess you're still tender back there! Is your back still hurting, Dollie?" He asked worriedly, immediately moving his hand away. "I would've hoped those nasty marks from the tree would have healed by now. I never meant to be so rough on you…"

She stared at him with a fixated smile on her face, her mind racing as she tried to wrap her head around what she had just heard.

_Rough? Tree?!_

Her sister had _slept_ with this guy the first day she'd met him, yet somehow hadn't felt this would be _prudent information_ to relay to her twin?!

No wonder Phoenix was acting so familiar and touchy-feely, despite this only being the _second_ time he'd seen his girlfriend! After all, how could poor Feenie ever know that while one of the Hawthorne sisters obviously had had zero qualms with "sharing her favours," her meek and virginal twin had never even _kissed_ a boy in all her 19 years?!

Blissfully oblivious to her stunned silence, Phoenix continued to ramble apologetically.

"I wish my first time _had_ been with you. That I'd been able to lay you down on a bed of roses, where we could have taken our time, instead of that rushed quickie in the forest! Not that it made things any less meaningful!"

His expression was earnest and pleading as he took her hand.

"I didn't even hear you complain, so I had no idea how badly the bark had marred your delicate skin until afterward, honest! Like I told you, it'd been a while for me … I hadn't been with anybody since high school. I swear, Dollie, this wasn't the sort of thing I do it just _anybody_! There was only one other girl before you, and she was my first love – not that it means I love _you_ any less! It was just that _one_ time, with Tiana. Her parents weren't home, and we were a couple of crazy kids in the throes of puppy love…"

"Feenie, stop, _please_!" Iris implored, her mind still swimming as she tried to absorb all this. "I – I don't need you to explain yourself, really. I don't hold anything against you."

"I just wish I'd handled you like the delicate flower you are and hadn't let my hormones cloud the judgement of my heart." Phoenix flushed guiltily. "Look, I know we sort of rushed into things in this relationship when we first met…"

"Um, yes," Iris sighed with relief, instinctively sensing a reprieve for her odd behaviour was within her grasp and ready to seize it with gusto. "You could definitely say that! I um, wasn't really _myself_ then…"

_In more ways than one!_ She added silently, keeping the placid smile on her face.

"I just don't want you to think that's what this relationship is all about, or worse, have you believe that's all I'm here for." Phoenix's eyes were wide and trusting. "It was love at first sight for me, Dollie, and even though we expressed that love right out of the gate, I don't want you to feel that's what I expect from you every time I see you. We can take things as slow – or at whatever pace – that you like."

She felt the surge of relief sink into her so immediately that it nearly made her body sag, along with a pang of conscience … and something else the ingénue couldn't quite put her finger on. _Dahlia_ may have seen this kind, unassuming guy as nothing more than a weak, overly sentimental fool, but in that instant, all Iris could see was a genuinely sweet, compassionate young man who wore his heart on his sleeve.

Therefore, she'd be damned if she were to just break it out of the blue – merely take that necklace of his and just run! It was bad enough she had to deceive him!

"I'd appreciate slowing things down just a _tad_, Feenie," she demurely dropped her gaze. "Um, especially physically …_at least_ until my back heals."

"I'll wait for you forever if I have to," he swore, his eyes filled with love. "I was attracted to you with the kind of heady trance that brings a butterfly to nectar. You, with just the right blend of shy and sweet. To me, you are more beautiful than the winter sun above pristine snow; you are warmer than spring sunshine on soft new grass; you are more mesmerizing than the fall leaves. You're worth the wait."

"Thank you, Feenie." Iris wasn't sure what else to say, even though she wished she could say the words rising in her heart, which had been so impacted by his touching poetic declarations, but knowing she had neither the experience nor nerve to say them aloud.

_Feenie, for me, what you truly are is an eternal summer, for every moment with you already seems like perfect blue skies with love in the air. My attraction to you isn't because you're handsome, though you are. It is to your __**soul**__; to the wonderful person who you are __**inside**__, which I can already inexplicably sense._

"Are the marks still there?" He asked regretfully, turning her slightly so he could take a gander for himself. "Thankfully, your _shoulders, _at least, don't look like they got roughed up too badly…"

The nun silently cursed how the particular cut of her ensemble showed so much bared skin which in this case was very _damning evidence_ indeed! She abruptly shifted her seated position so that she was facing him squarely and he could no longer look at her back.

"Er, they're lower down. _Under_ the dress," Iris said quickly, realizing too late that shrugging away from his touch again this time had made the wounded puppy look on his face impossible to miss.

"What is it, Dollie?" Phoenix seemed like he was about to cry. "Why are you so edgy with me, as if you're about to jump out of your skin if I even lay a finger on you? Are you already having second thoughts about me? About _us_? Even though I just promised to wait for you for as long as it takes?"

"No, it's nothing like that, Feenie!" Even as she cried out the words, she dimly acknowledged, with a slight jolt, that she was no longer acting. There were tears in her eyes as they silently beseeched him to trust her. "Of course, I want to be with you! You _must_ believe me!"

"I don't know if I can." Phoenix shook his head; his hurt was still evident. "Your _words_ say one thing, yet _your_ actions say another…"

Afterwards, Iris still couldn't determine if her next actions were done out of desperate reassurance to placate him and keep up her convincing act in this charade, which had suddenly become sheer madness, or if it was her, at last, succumbing to her innate urges, which had been unaccountably harbouring within her and leading to this inevitable moment.

All she knew was that almost as if on its own volition, she found her hand caressing his temple and her own soothing voice whispering words of loving reassurance, and then before she could overthink or second-guess the sequential movements, she bit her lip and bent forward. Reaching out her trembling fingers, she placed her hands on the sides of his face and faltered. Taking in a steadying breath, she lifted her eyes to see … his closed eyelids. She smiled in surprise and, suddenly, his eyes snapped open. Her heart leaped and she felt the air escape from her lungs. Up close and personal like this, his orbs were even more striking – the deepest of sapphires, now baring an intense flame at her close proximity.

_You look like a dream I never had before._ Her pulse was racing at the boldness of her intended deed. _Every girl fantasizes about her first kiss … and now mine is finally going to happen! I just hope he doesn't realize I have no idea what I'm doing! Well, here goes nothing … it's either kiss me or kill me, that's how I see it…_

She hesitated. When he still didn't move, she realized he would never make another gesture towards her again after being rebuked so many times. The onus was all on her now if she was going to successfully continue this masquerade.

Bearing this in mind, Iris leaned forward and kissed him. Softly. Just once. Barely able to breathe around her hammering heart, she drew back enough for warm air to slip between them, and Phoenix dissolved before her, a resigned sigh brushing against her mouth, and his lips softened. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart, taste the sweetness of the apples she'd packed with lunch still on his mouth. She weaved her fingers into his jet-black spikes, marvelling how they were softer than they looked. There were no thoughts, no words, as she simply found her eyes instinctively closing and as she felt the unfamiliar sensation of her lips upon his and his upon hers. Her heart pounded in her chest while his hand found its way into her hair.

Iris was kissing him with every drop of emotion that had pooled within her since she'd first laid sight on Phoenix Wright. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her closer to him, his hands remaining fastened at the sides of her waist, his touch gentle but firm as he slowly took control of the kiss. He was tentative at first; as if waiting for her to balk again, as she had previously, but there was no need.

Iris could have kissed him forever. She _wanted_ to kiss him forever. She knew it like she knew her own name. His hands raised to cradle her face now, holding her there as if he always had. And with every brush of his lips against hers, she knew what he was giving her and what she was giving him and what it would ultimately cost them both.

But this time, for once, she was not afraid, nor cared about the consequences.

_I am the wood. You are the flame. There is not one without the other, even if ultimately it means we will destroy each other and create ashes. Sometimes the personal experience is the only way to learn. You can't scare a girl by screaming 'fire!' if she thinks she wants to burn…_

* * *

**Phoenix's Dorm Room  
December 22, 2013**

They were doing their Christmas gift swap before Phoenix headed home for the holidays. They had complete privacy, as his roommate, Kyle, had already left to see his long-distance girlfriend, Rachel, back in Indiana the day before.

Since they were both broke struggling "students" – by now Iris perfected the art of walking among the vast halls of Ivy University and looking as though she belonged there – the twitter-pated lovebirds had agreed to exchange only homemade presents. He had insisted that she open hers first, and she had burst into a fit of delighted giggles to uncover a framed caricature of the two of them that he'd sketched and coloured himself, both in ugly Christmas sweaters, portraying Iris (who had the Grinch on hers) wearing a reindeer antler headband and Phoenix with a Santa Claus cap and Rudolph on his.

She'd thanked her boyfriend with a lingering kiss, then Iris had reticently presented him with a hand-knitted pink sweater she'd been working on for the past couple of months, which had a red heart on the front, with a large golden "P" emblazoned within it.

"I hope you like it, Feenie." She blushed prettily. "I thought it would go really well with the red scarf I made you for our one-month anniversary."

"I _love_ it, Dollie!" He enthused, pecking her on the lips with such enthusiasm that he knocked her back onto his bed, which she was seated on. "I'm _never_ going to take this off!"

Just as the twittering shrine maiden managed to sit up again, she saw that Phoenix was already unreservedly yanking off his T-shirt, ignoring the telltale blush that stained her fair cheeks at seeing him partially undressed, however briefly, for the first time.

True to his word, he had been nothing but a gentleman the past three months, never pushing their physical interactions to get past the limits she set, which thus far had been only first base. As he yanked the sweater on and proudly twirled in front of her, arms extended, he caught the fact that her flushed face was still the same shade as his gift and grinned mischievously.

"Why so shy, Dollie?" He teased playfully. "I haven't got anything you haven't already seen before, right?"

"_Right_…"

Iris nodded dumbly as the strange tingling surge that had flooded her body at the sight of his bared torso refused to dissipate. With a jolt, she realized she didn't want it to.

_This guy is everywhere… in my hair, my eyes, my fingers, my heart. I'm forever daydreaming about what he's doing, thinking, seeing, smelling, feeling. I cannot eat, for thoughts of him._

What she wanted, she knew now, and had known for some time, was him. _All_ of him.

Phoenix caught the look in her eyes, and his teasing expression faded as he began walking towards her. She was already rising to her feet from the mattress and striding to him as well. They met halfway in the middle of the room and their arms encircled one another.

His eyes were on fire, and his sweet, earthy scent slammed her senses. This time, Iris was unable to look away.

"You're doing that bedroom-eyes thing again." He trailed a path of kisses down her throat, his lips were as hot as his eyes, sending a shock wave through her before locking gazes with her again. "I don't even know if you know when you do it. But I can't ignore it this time. Tell me now, my sweet Dollie, if you liked what you saw when I took off my shirt?"

He stood before her and cupped her face, kissing her tenderly before drawing back and breathing the next question, with his lips hovering just inches above hers.

"If I promise to be much gentler this time…" He whispered. His breath was warm against her face. "Will you tell me if you want me to take it off again?"

Iris' breath caught in her throat as she realized what he was asking.

_I love this man. I can't get enough of him. I don't care how tired and sore I'll be afterward or that it's late. I don't want to sleep. I don't care if he splits me in two. I want the ache. I want him to a part of me. His weight on top of me. I want to squeeze him in further and further. I want to watch his face. I want his sweat to drop onto me. I want to drop mine on him. It doesn't matter that he thinks he's already been with me. I'm finally ready to give myself to him. I want him to make me his. Tonight. Right here. Right now._

"_Yes_," she gasped against his lips just before they claimed hers and they staggered backward until they toppled back onto the bed together, mouths fused together the whole time. "Yes, Feenie. Yes…."

_It's as if I'm saying a thousand __**yeses**__. Yes, I want you to make love to me, because yes, I am truly, madly, deeply in love with you. It's not an act anymore if it ever was. Yes, I want you to love me. Yes, I know Dahlia is getting impatient with me about why I haven't gotten that necklace back yet, but it will be okay. I will do as she asked … Maybe not today or tomorrow or next week. But yes, one day. I will wake up and it'll all be okay. Yes…_

Looking back at their time together, Iris was still unable to believe her own eyes at how alive Phoenix Wright had made her feel, despite the shortness of their courtship.

_I loved you so much once. I really did. More than anything in the whole wide world. Imagine that. But alas that was then, this is now. Can you believe it? We were so intimate once upon a time; I can't believe it as I look back. The memory of being that intimate somebody. I can't imagine ever being that intimate somebody else. I still haven't been…_

* * *

**Phoenix's Dorm Room  
February 14, 2014**

The two of them were giddily canoodling as they watched a series of chick flicks on Phoenix's small dorm TV while munching on the heart-shaped chocolate-chip shaped cookies Iris had presented him for Valentine's Day. Just as the last movie ended however, he suddenly jumped up from the bed and took a deep breath.

"Are you ready for your present now, Dollie?" He asked nervously.

"I thought you agreeing to watch _Ghost, Love Actually_, and _Love Story_ with me all night was a gift in itself!" She tittered. "You haven't even complained once even though I know romance movies aren't really your thing, Feenie."

"I haven't been paying much attention to anything but the teen angel lying in my arms," he confessed. "I'm telling you, Dollie, heaven's missing a haloed, celestial being by letting me be blessed to have you by my side. I feel like I'm the luckiest guy in the whole wide world!"

"_I'm_ the lucky one, Feenie," she corrected automatically, eyes shining with love. "You have no idea how happy you make me."

He flicked on his computer speaker and cleared his throat as the soft chords of a piano began filling the room.

"My roommate Kyle, the music major, agreed to play the instrumental, and I've been working on this song for you because I still say _I'm_ the luckiest."

Blushing slightly, Phoenix began to sing.

_I don't get many things right the first time,_  
_In fact, I am told that a lot_  
_Now I know all the wrong turns the stumbles_  
_And falls brought me here_  
_And where was I before the day_  
_That I first saw your lovely face,_  
_Now I see it every day_  
_And I know_

_That I am, I am, I am, the luckiest_

_What if I had been born fifty years before you_  
_In a house on the street_  
_Where you lived_  
_Maybe I'd be outside as you passed on your bike. Would I know?_  
_And in a wide sea of eyes_  
_I see one pair that I recognize_

_And I know_

_That I am, I am, I am, the luckiest_

_I love you more than have_  
_Ever found the way to say_  
_To you…_

Before he was even finished the song, Iris had already jumped off the bed and was in his arms, droplets of joy trickling down her cheeks as she pressed her trembling mouth against his. He could taste the saltiness of the tears against those lush rosebuds lips as they sought his.

The kiss, while unbearably fragile, was a spike of sensation. Everything Iris thought about who she was, _what_ she was, was irrelevant at that moment. There were no words, only sensation, smooth sensation. Phoenix felt deliciously powerless to everything around him as Iris passionately kissed him as she'd never kissed him before, with all the love in her heart. They stood in the middle of his dorm room, giving, and getting every kiss they'd ever gotten or given each other; kissing from memory. Kissing: fast, hard, deep, frantic, long, and slow. Tasting lips, mouth, tongue. He cupped her face in his hands, feeling the softness of her skin as Iris tenderly rubbed her face against his, her lips grazing his skin like the tickling lick of a kitten, sweeping his cheek, his cheekbones, nuzzling the ear, the narrow line of his eyebrow, finishing with a butterfly flick of the lashes, as though trying to memorize what he felt like.

Phoenix, at last, pulled back to look down into her flushed face.

Iris wasn't ready for it to be over. All other thoughts vanished from her brain. She opened her eyes and stared searchingly into his.

"Again," she whispered.

The corner of his mouth lifted, and then she kissed him once more. Not so gently this time. His hands dropped from her face, grabbed at her waist, and pulled her tightly against his chest. A small, soft groan escaped him, and that noise made her feel absolutely crazy.

Iris lost it. With complete abandon, she entwined her arms around his neck, pressed herself against him, and kissed him without holding anything back. She could feel his heart thundering like hers, his breath coming faster as his arms tightened around her waist.

A satisfied sigh escaped her mouth as they stumbled back towards the bed as if she were content to stay wrapped in his arms forever.

* * *

**Hazakura Temple  
April 8, 2014**

"_Unbelievable_!" Dahlia raged at the shrine maiden. "Iris Elizabeth Hawthorne, _you_, as a certain java-loving Latino defense attorney would have said, are _as useless as decaffeinated coffee_!"

Iris drew back and cringed at the fury in her twin's voice while her mirror image restlessly paced the room with a caged panther.

"I'm sorry, Dahlia," Iris uttered meekly. "I've been _trying_ my best but Feenie keeps refusing to part with the token of our – er, _your_ – love…"

"It's been _eight freaking months_! I cannot _believe_ you still haven't gotten that blasted bottle off that spineless wimp! I should have _known_ your world-class marshmallow behind would've gone soft on me; that I couldn't trust you to do the job which I should've just done myself in the first place!"

"I just need a little bit more time," Iris insisted, a feeling of dread coursing through her as her sister's eyes narrowed into nearly serpentine slits. "I promise I'll get that necklace back!"

She turned her head away so Dahlia wouldn't see how her expression belied her words.

"I just need a few more days. That's all! I – I'm getting tired of Feenie, anyway…

Dahlia stopped her frantic striding and got right up into her sister's face, her next words a barely perceptible hiss of fury.

"You're not tired of him at all!" She sneered, her tone rife with disgust and loathing. "You're in _love_ with him, you _pathetic, weak-kneed fool!_"

The nun dropped her eyes for a moment, terrified of the rage that would surely be contorting Dahlia's mien now that she'd made the discovery Iris had desperately been trying to hide for so long.

To her great shock, rather than seeing of a mask of fury though, her twin was now actually _smiling._

It chilled her blood.

_Every smile that lit up her features, despite being identical to mine, was the wrong sort. It's like she runs on cold malice instead of any form of genuine affection. Perhaps when was a baby Mother left her to cry, or she truly has a personality disorder that doctors couldn't fix. Either way, it's no use trying to plead my case anymore. I can see that Dahlia Lilith Hawthorne has as much empathy as a medieval mace._

"I could _pretend_ to be naïve enough to ponder how an _easily manipulated, spineless nimrod_ like Phoenix Wright, who's got _as much game as a basketball bat_ could've possibly earned so much of your loyalty and affections over that of your own twin sister," Dahlia mused in a dangerously soft voice. "But I already know the answer. He somehow literally charmed the pants off you and manage to make you forget that you're a nun! That's it! I _know_ it is!"

She threw her head back and let out a diabolical cackle.

"Don't even try to deny it, sister dearest! I know you too well, and you're a terrible liar! You _slept_ with him, didn't you?"

_Not before __**you**__ did! _Iris thought sullenly but rebelliously balked at answering such a personal query. She refused to feel guilty about having given her flower to Phoenix. It had been an act of love on her behalf rather than used as a means to manipulate and control, which it undoubtedly had been for her sister.

"I cannot _believe_ you!" Dahlia's voice rose higher and higher into a fevered pitch. "You actually gave that pathetic wimpy loser _our_ – I mean _my_ – virginity?"

_Are you __**seriously**__ trying to play the __**virtuous**__ card, Dahlia_? Iris stared defiantly back to her twin in righteous anger but wisely kept mum, knowing her sister apparently had no idea that her own tryst particular with Phoenix had long since become knowledge. _The last time __**you**__ were a virgin, I'm sure George W. Bush was still in office!_

Suddenly, Dahlia's expression changed, and her demonic veneer of wrath melted away like cotton candy in the rain, replaced by an angelic smile.

_Iris'_ smile.

"Well, there's no point in crying over spilled milk, is there?" She said sweetly, leaning forward and placing a fleeting kiss on Iris' forehead. The nun barely suppressed a shiver at the touch of her twin's cold lips on her skin. "What's done is done, right? You did your best, and I appreciate you trying to help me out, the good sister that you are. '_A_' for effort, right?"

Surprised, but not unaccustomed, to her sister's lighting changes of mood, Iris guilelessly felt a slight surge of relief that Dahlia no longer seemed to be cross with her.

"Thanks for being so understanding." Iris smiled gratefully at her sister as she headed to the door. "I really meant what I said, sister. I will get that necklace back – like I said I just need a few more days."

"I'm not going to worry my pretty little head about it." Dahlia blew her a kiss as she swept out of the room. "I trust you implicitly, Iris. After all, what are sisters for?"

* * *

_**Iris Hawthorne's Journal  
**_**April 10, 2014**

_It's all over. An innocent man is dead. Doug Swallows, coldly murdered. My darling Feenie, accused of being his killer, and according to the papers, stands trial tomorrow. Oh, Dahlia…how could you?! How could I have misjudged you so terribly?! What have you done?!_

The ink on the page blurred slightly from the teardrops that fell onto the paper faster than she could wipe them away.

_I don't know what's worse, knowing the only man I've ever loved stands to face the death penalty for a crime I know he never committed, or that he may die never knowing who I really was, or how much I loved him, with every fibre of my being. What was once whole is shattered; where once peace was is now emptiness, echoes of a love I put my everything into._

Iris' tears continued to trickle down her face as her shaky hand continued to write down the tragic events of the past few days.

_My heartbreak is grief that comes in waves, grueling, stealing appetite and sleep alike. It is a shard in my guts that never leaves, though perhaps in time the edges will dull. It feels like death just the same as bereavement and in quiet moments it chokes the breath from my body and short circuits my mind._

She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shrine maiden garment.

_Feenie. My darling Feenie. I loved you so much. _ _I_ _**love**__ you so much. I don't know why I use the past tense. It's not as if love dies when the beloved one is snatched away. But the bitter truth is that in the end, I am hopelessly in love with a man who even if he miraculously gets acquitted, will never be anything more than a memory. Now he's just somebody that I used to know. An echo from another time, another place._

Iris felt her chest constrict, her heartbreak so raw and intense that she literally felt physical pain, as well as being shattered beyond repair.

_Although really, is it still considered mere heartache when in fact it's your __**entire body and soul**__ that feels broken?_

* * *

**Detention Centre  
April 18, 2019**

_Dismissed! Fired! Cast aside like common garbage – over a poker game! _The newly jilted Kristoph Gavin's rage knew no bounds as he stormed past the cell blocks, clenching his precious forged diary page in his fist so hard, his knuckles turned white. _And then that smarmy, mouth-breathing… prole had the audacity to command me to send these case files over to that… inferior, bluffing buffoon of an attorney he's hired in my stead?! What exactly was it about that Philistine that Zak found so desirous compared to me? Wright's uninspired diction or his laughably bad grammar?!_

"You will regret this, you plebeian peon!" The German defense attorney snarled as he stalked past the prisoners in their cells, mindless to everything but his own fury. "You will rue the day you crossed the Coolest Defense in the West! As God as my witness…Vengeance will be mine!"

He gritted his teeth and shook his fist at the heavens.

"I will see you in hell for this insidious act of treachery, Phoenix Wright!"

_And once there…. I will feast on your entrails and devour your soul!_

"Poor, poor, Krissy," a melodious feminine simper floated to his ears just as he had finished his latest outburst about this unwarranted injustice. "You need to take a few deep breaths and calm down. Wrath is for the weak-minded."

Halting in his tirade against all that was holy, Kristoph abruptly brought his head back down and swung his eyes down towards the petite, titian-haired siren who was smiling knowingly at him and had apparently heard every word he'd just uttered.

"Once you have a cooler and more collected mental state, you will see things in a clearer light," the porcelain doll-faced sylph cooed, revealing subdued wisdom that belied her youthful years. "It's something I myself have learned from this time in solitude, which has finally allowed me to now reflect upon the circumstance that brought me here with no more than a sense of detached irony."

"How _dare_ you try to undermine my plight so insolently, foolish and presumptuous hoyden?" Kristoph demanded peevishly, glaring at the girl, who merely smiled sweetly in response. "As if I can be appeased with trite platitudes spoken by a nosy stranger who knows nothing of my circumstances!"

"Alas, I am no stranger whatsoever to being screwed – literally _and_ figuratively! – by the very sniveling, snot-nosed pantywaist you wish a plague upon, _Krissy_." She tilted her head to the side, the coy smile never leaving her rosebud lips. "However, I had also given up hope about the entire concept of a fair and just universe – _until_ _now_."

"Is that right?" His disgust, both with her impudence and appalling, unsolicited nickname for him was evident by the Arctic blast in his cadence. "And just what brought on this impromptu turnabout of yours?"

"Why, _you_ were of course! From the moment I heard you ranting your bile about the very cretin who is responsible for me being here in this _dank, urine-soaked hell hole_."

The melodious voice hardened then.

"The same man whom I _also_ hate with the burning passion of a thousand suns."

Before Kristoph's startled gaze, the dark, doe-like orbs were suddenly overtaken in the next instant, with only the whites of her eyes becoming visible. The dulcet beam morphed into a supercilious sneer, and the angelic expression was replaced by a demonic mask.

"What say we join forces and fuck Phoenix Wright … _together?"_

* * *

_**Ben Folds Five - The Luckiest**_


	2. Twice Bitten

_PPOD: Well, we're back! I had fun writing about my evil bastard boyfriend. Honestly, I can't not think of American Psycho's Patrick Bateman when I write about Kristoph. Anyway, I assure you it's going to get worse from here on out with each passing chapter. This is more of a set up, but with too many twisted ideas floating in my head...they will come out sooner than later. Hope you enjoy this one!_

_JP: So… my hilarious partner has officially managed to do the impossible – make Bitchtoff Gavin even more repugnant than even Capcom did… yet still kept him in character! I hope she gets some well-earned love for this chapter!_

_Now, without further ado, herein lays the origins of the pretty poisons known as Dahlstoph…who despite their fair appearance are as charming/harmless as Strychnine…_

* * *

**Chapter Two: ****Twice Bitten**

After the initial shock of witnessing the woman's demonic display, his rage quelled somewhat, as her words, laced with sheer enticing malice, echoed inside his mind.

_Fuck Phoenix Wright_.

_Fuck Phoenix Wright..._

**_Fuck Phoenix Wright!_**

Kristoph nearly laughed. While he certainly thought such foul language was beneath him, what he wouldn't give to give Wright a good _fucking_ at this point.

He found it was rather queer that once again, in the same location no less, Phoenix Wright had gotten in his way and made acquisition of a more reputable status more improbable.

After all, it wasn't the first time Wright had robbed him of a client. Once was upsetting, but twice was absolutely **_unacceptable_**.

He remembered _that_ day like it was yesterday...the day he would never forget. The day he started loathing Phoenix Wright.

* * *

**_Kristoph Gavin's Residence_**

**_September 9th, 2017_**

As usual, whenever a person was implicated in a crime, Kristoph Gavin was one of the state attorneys who was on call when someone didn't or couldn't afford a private attorney. Today was no different from the usual.

This afternoon, he had received a call from the jail that someone, of the name Phoenix Wright was in need of a defense. It was almost a pity to have to leave, as he spent a large portion of his time at home- if he could, he most assuredly would work there as well.

Unfortunately the nature of this job lent itself to social connections as opposed to solitude. While he found most people to be beneath him, he still relied upon them, but only to a certain extent. For without others, who could praise him?

Kristoph made sure to feed and water his purebred English Golden Retriever, Vongole before heading out. He may have loathed human beings, but he _did_ adore Vongole. A dog such as this one was the perfect companion. It loved him and needed him. And on top of that, he had absolute control over it. That was far easier to do than human connections. The control he'd have to exert of other people was done in a more subtle and manipulative fashion after all.

His brother, for example was a prime target. He had had plenty of time to practice on Klavier once their parents had passed away from old age. It was easy, considering Kristoph was now the boy's only immediate family only topped by how Klavier, wanted nothing more than his approval...to be like Kristoph.

A pity if that's what he wanted, surely he would have dressed in a less tacky manner and acted...less flamboyant with that faux German accent he toted around for his musical promotions. It crushed what little of Kristoph's soul remained, if it was even there to begin with, considering they both had formal training in the German, thus eliminating the need to butcher the language. He had asked the boy a number of times, "Verstehen Sie Deutsch? Das ist blöd". But nothing ever changed, except maybe how this marketing ploy as Kristoph discovered as such, attracted hordes of idiotic fangirls for this band he had just started.

Such ignorant swine would never understand culture. He could have at least used it to read Nietzsche or something.

At that thought, he affirmed once more that his dog was the only companion he cared or felt a need for. Looking at the dog, now in its handmade basket, he gave it a ginger pat with his lavender scented hands. He noted that he was in need of a manicure ASAP, as he lifted his wiry fingers from his cute companion. After work he figured it wouldn't feel like wasting his time in a salon, so he'd do it himself this evening.

Already dressed in his finest powered blue three piece Armani suit, the attorney strutted out of his beautiful Victorian home (which was fully paid off, an impressive feat for someone his age) and to his silver Mercedes Benz parked out front.

Unlocking the door to climb inside, Kristoph took a seat noting how the new lemon air freshener was holding up. It was a bit too potent for his taste, and would opt to try a chai or vanilla scent soon. Obviously, that was the only problem inside his vehicle- Kristoph was too tidy for his own good. It would irk him when he had to give Klavier rides before he got his licenses- the boy was a slob, leaving his fast food wrappers amongst other unmentionables (peculiar flavored condoms) inside Kristoph's vacuumed, oiled, and washed once a week car.

Revving up the engine, he buckled up and pulled out of his parking spot onto the main road. Driving- something that at one point had been enjoyable to the attorney had become more of burden as he had to protect his vehicle from idiots running amok. If someone so much as scratched his car, he'd break every window of their car. Not a very a hard task, he determined having done this on at least two occasions. A good crow bar worked like a charm, especially under a darkly lit sky.

Not willing to sit in traffic in silence, he flicked on the radio. For the most part, it played popular trash from the top 40s, but here and there the particular man would find something he found tolerable. After changing station after to station away from Cher, Selena Gomez, Bon Jovi and Bruce Springsteen, he found exactly what he was looking for...

_I want you to know, that I am happy for you_  
_I wish nothing but the best for you both_

There were few songs he cared for, but this one spoke to him. Alanis Morissette was a gem amongst the garbage regularly airing in today's age.

_An older version of me_  
_Is she perverted like me?_  
_Would she go down on you in a theater?_  
_Does she speak eloquently_

It was a simple reason he liked the song. The singer sang with a strong emotion, bitterness, and it was one of the few feelings that came naturally to him that wasn't forced or superficial. Kristoph had learned early on to mimic normal responses to keep the people around him happy and unconcerned. He hadn't been sure why he didn't feel the same way as other children his age did, or if he felt at all, he just knew in order to survive, he'd have to be like everyone else. And then better than them.

_And would she have your baby?_  
_I'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother_

_'Cause the love that you gave that we made_  
_Wasn't able to make it enough for you_  
_To be open wide, no_  
_And every time you speak her name_  
_Does she know how you told me_  
_You'd hold me until you died_  
_'Til you died, but you're still alive_

_And I'm here, to remind you_  
_Of the mess you left when you went away_  
_It's not fair, to deny me_  
_Of the cross I bear that you gave to me_  
_You, you, you oughta know_

Plus, it reminded him of a girl he was in the habit of seeing in university. He smirked as he recalled the name, Annette. _Oh, Annette. I do wonder how that new boyfriend is treating you?_

Or rather the second new boyfriend, considering that one suddenly came out dating _right _after she had declared that their relationship was over, had happened across a quite rather _unfortunate _accident. A freak accident really. For women of a sexual nature indeed loved to be pleasured and if a man's privates are crushed like ground beef, it can cause quite the conundrum.

Of course, Kristoph hadn't done anything _directly _to cause this. Though, he _may _have played around with a variety of weights in the gym that muscle headed baboon frequented and used on a regular basis.

_You seem very well, things look peaceful_  
_I'm not quite as well, I thought you should know_  
_Did you forget about me, Mr. Duplicity?_  
_I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner_  
_It was a slap in the face_  
_How quickly I was replaced_  
_And are you thinking of me when you fuck her?_

It wasn't so much the fact that he had been cheated on- but rather the who it was for. Kristoph while uncaring about love and romance, though putting on a good show of it, at least treated the woman with a modicum of respect and class. And at least, the attorney was stunning in terms of looks- well groomed with proper hygiene. He couldn't fathom how on earth Annette would go so slow to fuck an idiot with a brain the size of a pea who smelled of rank sweat and Old Spice. It was this fact more than anything else, that drove him mad.

_'Cause the love that you gave that we made_  
_Wasn't able to make it enough for you_  
_To be open wide, no_  
_And every time you speak her name_  
_Does she know how you told me_  
_You'd hold me until you died_  
_'Til you died, but you're still alive_

Plus, he should have been the one to break up with her, not the other way. Kristoph Gavin was not a dumpee. He was charming, handsome, rich, going to law school, well read, traveled and eloquent! In his eyes he was the perfect boyfriend. Heck he even loved dogs! Yet, she went off with a disgusting creature that can barely be referred to as a human!

_And I'm here, to remind you_  
_Of the mess you left when you went away_  
_It's not fair, to deny me_  
_Of the cross I bear that you gave to me_  
_You, you, you oughta know_

And she wouldn't give him a proper explanation for it either. How dare anyone reject him, especially without reason? He was perfect. None of it made it sense. He was supposed to appear to have a perfect life- in all areas. Career, friendships, intellectual pursuits, fitness, and yes even love! Not because he cared about it- the only person he cared for was himself, but because it would make him appear more extraordinary especially for a woman so desired and wanted amongst the school population. Her father was a part of the attorney's bar association too, so the aspiring attorney felt devastated at the loss of that link.

_'Cause the joke that you laid in the bed_  
_That was me and I'm not gonna fade_  
_As soon as you close your eyes, and you know it_  
_And every time I scratch my nails_  
_Down someone else's back I hope you feel it_  
_Well, can you feel it?_

_And I'm here, to remind you_  
_Of the mess you left when you went away_  
_It's not fair, to deny me_  
_Of the cross I bear that you gave to me_  
_You, you, you oughta know_

So no, it was not fair. He had done everything perfectly. Ideally, they were supposed to stay together until wed, where he could subtly manipulate her for his amusement and gain more of her father's trust. But what was it? She couldn't complain about his attentiveness. His privates were of considerable size. He even spent time reading, _The Guide To Getting It On 7th Edition_! His technique and performance weren't off, that much was certain. It all bothered him because it didn't make any rational sense, the only place where he felt comfortable. The realm of emotions and primal instincts were lost on him, if this were the main cause of the break, he probably would never understand.

But at the end of the day, it hadn't mattered much. The girl's father apologized that their relationship was over, and still insisted if he ever needed anything to give him a call. Kristoph's peers were all too sympathetic to his plight. And he had made Annette as miserable as he possibly could by targeting her lover and framing her for cheating on final exams, causing her graduation to be delayed for another year.

And all was right in the world once more.

He drove on for 30 minutes more being forced to listen to songs he referred to as dribble, that would never come close to the artistic masterpiece Alanis Morissette had created, eagerly approaching the jail to see what the case had to offer.

* * *

**_Detention Center_**

**_September 9th, 2017_**

After entering through the security checkpoints, the guards delivered him the case materials to look over.

Often times, he was stuck with cases where the clients were nothing more than street urchins and the prosecutors, average at best lacking any celebrity status. But this case- was not one of them. For starters the prosecutor was described as prodigy, Miles Edgeworth, who was trained under the tutelage of Manfred von Karma, the man who hadn't lost a single case in 40 years. Edgeworth was well respected in the legal community and someone Kristoph would have loved to have a tête-à-tête with, seeing him as a another man of culture.

On top of that, it was quite obvious to Kristoph the underhanded involvement of Redd White of Blue Corp, based on the transcript of the day's procedure. Imagine! If he Kristoph Gavin, were to single handedly bring down Blue Corp, rumored to have plenty of dealings with blackmailing. It would elevate his status rather fast. It would be the best footing he could have when he would eventually begin his own private form. Not just a no name, but the one who brought down a Redd White? Amazing couldn't begin to describe it.

With excitement pulsing through his veins, he finished reading over the files. He was going to take this case, win, and then build his empire. Gavin Law Offices would reign supreme over all the other law firms in Los Angeles!

Kristoph confident in plans, strode back to the room to fetch a guard. "I'm ready to meet with the client."

"Uh, hey buddy. There's been a bit of a miscommunication."

"Miscommunication?" he queried as his glasses somehow produced a sinister flash of light.

"Yeah. Actually, this Wright guy is gonna defend himself. The memo didn't get passed to us, you see."

"...Then what exactly was the point of calling me down, hmmm?" Kristoph kept a polite tone of voice, but anyone with a heartbeat could feel the red evil aura emanating around him.

The larger guard seemed to shrink, bowing his head and muttering. "I-It was a mistake, sir. Very sorry, sir."

_Breathe, Kristoph, breathe,_ he thought to himself. He couldn't let go. Not here, in front of this plebian. It was quite the job of keeping his madness under wrap, when he felt things he was entitled to were being snatched away from.

"That's okay," he smiled with tight lips. "Just please be sure that this doesn't happen again. It is rather inconvenient to drive such lengths to be turned down."

"Sorry...it won't be a common occurrence, sir. It won't happen again."

"Lovely,' Kristoph remarked still faking pleasantness, though he was moving a brisk manner. He passed the guard the files. "Have a good day."

"Uh, you too, sir."

Kristoph walked out of the sight of the guard and into the courtyard. It was then when he was certain he safely out of view he started to stomp. "How. Dare. He."

He dared turn _him_ down? Kristoph Gavin? The man coming into the reputation as the Coolest Defense Attorney in the west? It was a well known fact that most state attorneys were average at best, and dreadfully pessimistic at worst. It's not that the skills of the state appointed attorneys were poor or anything, it was just that so many of them opted to cut deals with prosecution instead of chasing a full not guilty verdict. But Kristoph was not one of them- on a regular basis he gave his clients and rigorous defense which led to a great deal of acquittals.

He was going to defend himself? Against Miles Edgeworth? Against Redd White? Kristoph had seen the brief history of the latest suspect Phoenix Wright and wasn't impressed. Wright had only just taken his first case! While his mentor Mia Fey had made a few waves, and was a respectable attorney with years of experience, Wright didn't even a year, let alone a week of experience to amount to anything! He was fool to turn down any assistance, especially his!

As Kristoph stormed through the courtyard, some inmates were staring at him, but he didn't care. No one would listen to these low life scum about his sanity slippages, if they even asked. His reputation was impeccable without a spot on it.

It was with distaste that he had to pass through the women's prison to exit this Godforsaken hellhole of low life criminals. Wasn't one zoo enough? He didn't understand why at least in this county everything had to be so close together. The prisons were so close, they might as well been a co-ed jail! But he was disgusted mostly by the amount of people he needed to be around this very instant.

When he hurried through the yard, he entered a cellblock. Once he bypassed this, he'd be free to go home and pour out his frustrations to the extent he wanted. "Wright...Phoenix Wright...wasting my time! Unbelievable!"

"Ohh," cooed a delicate voice from a cell. "Did someone say Phoenix Wright?"

Kristoph looked up. Of course, a scum bucket had to attempt conversation with him. "What about _him_? I'm not singing his praises. He's an absolute fool."

The red head smiled sweetly and batted her eyelashes at him. "I quite agree he's a fucking tool. I hate that man with every fiber of being. I would do _anything _to see him suffer for how's he ruined my life!"

Now, this caught his interest far more than the pathetic display of coquettishness that average man would be falling head over heels for. "You've encountered him before?"

"More than encountered," she said with a hint of disgust in her honeyed voice. "He's the reason why I'm here...that and his _bitch_ mentor."

Before he could respond, the woman spoke again, and he could quite clearly see the daggers in her eyes. "If you're interested, you could look at the case file. My name's Dahlia Hawthorne."

Kristoph, though still peeved by the interruption would consider it.

This woman didn't appear to be the average criminal by any means. Something about her- and he couldn't put a finger on it- that screamed a tortured existence, something akin to hellfire and brimstone. In a way it reminded him of himself, in the way that the woman had a tidy and fair maiden appearance, but at her core she was rotten. He wasn't quite rotten, no, but rather more empty than anything else. But like himself, there was more than meets the eye and it was rare he sensed that in another human being.

"Perhaps, I'll peruse it later this evening. But I make no promises," the attorney remarked coldly, as he began the journey back down the hall of the cellblock.

"Before you go I have a question," the woman spoke with a sweetness that would make anyone diabetic.

The man paused mid step and turned to face the redhead once more, who was putting on fake smile. "What is it?"

"You never told me your name."

"...Gavin. Kristoph Gavin," he said with caution. "Why do you care?"

"I don't. I just wanted to refer to you as something other than the blond who hates Phoenix Wright. It makes things easier," she said nonchalantly, playing in her hair.

The attorney snorted. "This falls under the assumption that we'll meet again. Which might not happen."

"Oh, _Krissy, _I have a strong feeling we'll cross ways again. Believe me."

Ugh. It was said in a sarcastic way, but 'Krissy' made his skin crawl. Kristoph could see it now: Dahlia was most likely the equivalent of a Venus fly trap. Or perhaps a siren. Either way she'd lure morons to their deaths, with a cute attitude and looks. Not with baring gag inducing pet names.

Kristoph decided the blunt approach wouldn't work on this woman and thus responded in kind. He smiled his favorite, most practiced smile, one that exuded warmth and kindness although neither trait was really there and would never exist within him. "Don't get your hopes up..._Dollie_."

It was her turn to look visible sickened as she scrunched her small face up, in a way that made it seem like she had smelled something putrid. Before she could say anything more to lure him back, the attorney continued on his path to exit the jail and return home, with lingering thoughts floating in his mind.

On the drive home, he strangely, very strangely, realized that talking to her had quelled the rage inside of him. It was still present, but not as intense as it began. It had been replaced by a peculiar curiosity that he couldn't shake. Kristoph had not been in the nature of feeling a fascination with another person besides himself in quite some time, for he was the center of his own universe. Anyone else, he only pretended to care about. Well, he cared to gain the approval of particular high society members, but beyond that...not really.

* * *

**_Kristoph Gavin's Residence_**

**_September 9th, 2017_**

Seeing as his chance to shine had been stolen prematurely, he figured it would do no harm into looking into this Dahlia Hawthorne woman.

Once he returned to his less than humble abode, he checked on Vongole and once he was certain his canine friend was comfortable, entered his study. Quaint, it was filled with a couple of long umber book cases that held a wide assortment of books ranging from law to literary classics. He pulled his beige curtains back, to allow some natural lighting into the room so he wouldn't have to rely upon the chandelier hanging above. He took a seat at his polished desk and opened his laptop.

_Dahlia Hawthorne._..he typed into the public record of court cases.

The sharp blue eyes glazed across the screen, first seized by boredom, but then taken by amusement.

This _Melissa Foster _she posed as, was quite devious at such a young age. Manipulative, but sloppy. Too sloppy for his tastes. Blackmail wasn't one of his preferred methods of gaining control over anyone since it always had a paper trail, and he'd rather eliminate even the slightest chance that anything could ever be traced back to him. The manipulation of the Terry Falwes fellow? He'd grade it an A-. He was stupid and easily susceptible to the point where he'd willingly take the fall for her, even at the cost of his own life. Because of that she managed to slip away the first time. Though, the whole plan relied too much on too many moving pieces for his taste.

The next thing referenced was the poisoning of Diego Armando...again, she was too sloppy. The fact that she was even so much as implicated in it, despite never being charged with anything said as much. His method of poisoning would be far more indirect- so no one would even so much suspect him. But he had to wonder why she poisoned him to begin with. And he could only assume that she most likely couldn't seduce him like she'd done the other fools, considering he had been on the defense of that dreadful court case. He was too sharp, and not falling for her parlor tricks. But to poison him just because he was onto her? What a poor criminal. It's a dead giveaway.

The final case mentioned was where she finally was caught and convicted by Mia Fey as she defended her client..._Phoenix Wright._

_Hm. I bet he's an overly sentimental type who decided to work for Fey after a successful defense, _he mused, seeing as how it was listed Wright's occupation back then was an art student. He had been dating Dahlia Hawthorne and framed for the murder of another college student, Doug Swallow.

Kristoph read over the whole thing and clicked his tongue disdainfully.

Just as he thought, Wright was an easily led moron. If he was that bad, it would be a mystery how he'd survive against Edgeworth in court tomorrow. Kristoph hoped he would fail in the worst way possible, to prove that _his _impeccable services were needed after all.

On top of that, he was disappointed in Dahlia's plain stupid scheming. Just what was it with her men? These plans would have had a higher success rate if she limited the amount of people involved. And most of these plans relied on the target to be innocent and naive, yet it didn't ever account for how others around them might be able to smell something rotten in the state of Denmark. It seemed to be over something boring like money as well.

...He shut his laptop and folded his arms.

He was correct to assume she was a demon, but her actions only left her as nothing more than a cheap conniving whore. But it most likely wasn't her fault; it seemed like she had poor impulse control and cared only for herself. Most likely a sociopath. Kristoph had more control over himself and a sharper mind. He could fool everyone, including his family and the world at large. He could easily charm the opposite sex with little effort, but for Christ's sake, he wouldn't keep them alive after being involved in such ludicrous schemes. He'd quietly dispose of them in a way that would be nigh impossible to link back to him. Maybe a tragic accident.

A monster, yes, but of the mindlessly destructive variety. He didn't care for sociopaths for that reason. If she was after money, there were a number of ways to obtain it. Scams were an easy way if one did not wish to pursue legal means. If a dimwit could use a phone or a computer they could perform scams on hopeless, old, or stupid victims. Or with her taste in men, she could offer her services as a prostitute, since she wanted to be a femme fatale so badly.

_What a waste, _he thought. She could easily have expanded her range of victims. With that demeanor she appeared to hold, senior citizens would have been more vulnerable. Imagine, she could scam them pretending to be a grandchild and extort money from them with far more ease than using dirty cops or convicted criminals.

If Wright were foolish enough to be deceived by such a harpy, he deserved it. And because he deserved, Kristoph figured it wouldn't hurt to do a psych evaluation of the woman. Something was clearly wrong with a 15 year old girl seducing a 23 year old handicapped male prisoner. Not so much from a moral stand point, but a disturbed view point. If he could ascertain her background led to this sickening behaviors, he figured he could remove her from death row and opt for a life without parole sentence.

It was the least he could do to make himself feel better about Wright daring to reject_ him_, the imbecile.

* * *

**_Detention Center_**

**_September 10th, 2017_**

The following day, Kristoph returned to Cellblock D in the women's prison. He stopped when he found Dahlia's cell, as she did nothing more than brush her vibrant red hair. When she took notice of the man, she smirked.

"_Krissy_! Back so soon? What did I tell you?"

Kristoph wasn't amused and opted to get straight to the point. "I read your files."

"And?"

With the devil's hand he adjusted the glasses on his face. "I'm thoroughly unimpressed."

"Hmph. As if you'd know a thing about crime-"

"You only have one good trick up your sleeve, and it's quite apparent. I would not be so foolish to fall for your feminine charms," Kristoph shook his head with a flourish. "A pity. If you kept to the _one _thing you were talented at, I'm sure you would have had more success."

"...Is that a challenge?" she seethed.

Kristoph replied with a smirk. "There is no challenge. It is simply impossible."

The small, pale face without blemish, scrunched up into something mean and nasty, teeth baring and nostrils flared. But just as quickly as the upset came, it just as quickly left, replaced with an angelic demeanor. "We'll see about that, _Krissy,_" she giggled.

The attorney sighed. This woman clearly didn't have working ears. He had already read the reports- he knew how exactly she functioned. He could already see right through her.

And Kristoph wasn't a normal man, not by any stretch of the imagination- and he himself was aware of the fact. He wasn't an ordinary man, but a rather _extraordinary _one. Women's bodies? They didn't do anything for him. Men's bodies as well- except for his own, since he cared about it and it's appearance and wellbeing. Seduction would never work on him. And love? Forget about it. The only person he loved was himself.

Love and sex were only tools he could use to manipulate others if he felt like it. But, that was only on rare occasions.

...But he would admit that Dahlia might be of some use to him. Her looks alone would make most average men swoon.

"Even though I find your strategies or lack thereof, abysmal, I believe I can assist you."

"Oh? What could _you _possibly do for little old me? I'm on death row, you know."

"I can read, thank you," he remarked snidely. "With the right persuasion, I can overturn the conviction to _at least _get you a life sentence without parole. I would just need to know, details on your upbringing and your agreement to psychiatric evaluation."

"But why would you help me?" she asked. "I'm sure Krissy has other more important things to do."

"I'm in a charitable mood," he smiled, though it was merely a half truth.

* * *

**_Detention Center_**

**_April 18th, 2019_**

...That's right. It seemed like history repeated itself. In this prison he had encountered this woman before. Kristoph had gone through the legal motions as he promised. It was a nice way to spite Wright and simultaneously hone his skills as an attorney.

And it worked fairly well. With plenty of research and evaluations, it was determined that Dahlia Hawthorne was a sociopath born out of the dire circumstances of her upbringing. A twisted mother who abandoned her children due to lack of usefulness on her part and the husband who sexually abused their child on a regular basis. Dahlia Hawthorne, never knew or understood the meaning of care or for that matter love. Her whole upbringing turned into a struggle of survival- seeing not who could help her, but who could she use to achieve security? Who could she exploit?

And the abuse from her father...only assisted in that end. She learned how to please men early on and used that to her advantage time and time again.

Things only grew from bad to worse, thus creating the monster who sat in the jail cell before him today.

Thus, was the tale he spun for the reasons and rationals Dahlia shouldn't receive the death penalty. And like a charm, he managed to reduce the sentence to life without parole. She was lucky- she didn't have much time left before execution.

The bonus to it all was that she'd always be indebted to Kristoph. Even a couple of days ago he recalled, how she suggested the right artist for the forgeries he wanted made for the Gramayre case.

...Though, now that might be all for nothing, now that Wright was now defending.

Again...he was snubbed for him? Of all people?

It was times like this where Kristoph wondered what was the point of him becoming a lawyer in the first place, if he would always be snubbed by a third rate, ineloquent, bumbling, moron!

Why on Earth did he study law so intently, down to the wire, to discover all it's peaks and valleys just to be upstaged by a man who just pointed his finger, playing pin the tail on the unsuspecting witness as he blindly guessed his way to victory? An idiot who had the audacity to call a parrot to the stand? A nitwit who until recently needed a teenage girl to assist him piece together his cases?

It. Was. Absurd.

He was making a mockery of the legal process and gaining all the fame and high profile cases!

What on Earth was in it for Kristoph to have done things the right way for so long? Should have he had done them the _Wright_ way? Should he have invested in a teenage girl, accused anyone that walked into the court and called animals to the stand? It all made him want to pull out his silky locks from the root.

He had been polished and groomed for success, since the beginning of time. He was cultured, well-read, articulate, fashionable, polite and to be frank, absolutely beautiful. Not even his younger brother could match him appearance wise, standing over the boy with an intimidating 6'1 frame, blessed with a strong figure, lean muscle mass and broad shoulders.

Not including English he had studied and arrived in at least a B2 level of proficiency in French, German, and Spanish. In university he had a comparative literary degree and wrote his thesis on why Walt Whitman felt so intent on telling the reader uncouth details about his sex life, in a metaphor for subduing man's instinctual primal urges and desires. If he could make literal buckets of cum sound appealing, Kristoph could make anything look more beautiful than what it really was.

For if he could mask his insanity to the world, he could make a stinky turd appear to be gold. The world was supposed to be his oyster. How long had he had to pretend to be normal? And go even beyond normal to exceptional?

So to be dismissed...over a _poker_ game? It was infuriating. What was the point of going to law school if adults were determining their next actions based on games? Was he living in that children's show _Yu-Gi-Oh_ ?

Should he have just gone to a state school? Or perhaps he should have continued his original plan to be a doctor?

If he had known he'd be dealing with such undesirables, he would have stuck with his medical degree instead. That way, if he ever encountered an incredible dismissive gorilla like Gramarye again, he'd simply cut him open and make it appear to be some grievous error.

Just what would it take to get what was rightfully his?

He had literally just wasted 100,000 dollars on forged evidence for securing the win for this trial! If had known, the magician was going to dump him, he would have better spent this money on a new car or a summer home in Germany.

"Krissy!"

Or he could have refurbished his house. It was getting close to a good time to repaint-

"Hey, dipshit!"

**"_What?_"** he snapped at the woman, who was looking at him with the impatience gaze of a vulture ready to swoop in and eat its prey. But she didn't intimidate him in the slightest. He had better things to do than hang around here. "Don't waste my time, you barbaric foul mouthed toad."

"A...toad...?" the annoyed Dahlia, went from mildly peeved to heated. "You listen here, _prissy_ Krissy! I asked if you were in or not. I thought you were a man of action, not a daydreamer."

Kristoph snorted. If it was prissy for him to take care of his stunning looks, so be it. He could see her cracked, broken nails as she held on to the bars of the cell. A lack of up keep. _Disgusting._

"Work with you? I may despise that man, but to be frank you lack eloquence. And I have to deal with a waste of evidence worth 100,000. So if you'll excuse me, _Dollie_ I will be on my way."

"...You could just give it to him."

"What? He couldn't be that stupid."

"He is," she said flicking her long red to the side. "I know from experience. If you don't want your prized evidence to go to waste, just give it to him."

A simple solution, but a bit _too_ simple. He couldn't just waltz in, hand him the evidence over and walk away. Kristoph wasn't leaving town any time soon, so it would have to be done in a more skillful, albeit creative way.

...Hm. No one would have any knowledge that he used the forgery if this had gone the way he had planned. But things were different now. Very different. Kristoph was supposed to go against Klavier in court. The boy had talked about it for days on end...

_I'll warn him that the attorney currently on the case is planning to use illegal evidence and that he should be prepared. Klavier, even if he is suspicious, looks up to me too much to do anything let alone directly confront me about the matter._

Ah, the joys of family. While it had been a pain at times to raise his younger brother after their parents died, he did reap the benefits immensely of having a puppet to control. He had been his first and longest running experiment. And the blood ties were hard to fully ever remove oneself from after all...well for average humans anyway.

He smirked. _Yes. That's how I'll do it. Gramarye's child. I'll give the page to her and tell her to give it to Wright. From there, I'll watch the fireworks from the stand._

"I should make a correction: Your plans aren't stupid, but undefined and simplistic. They are in much need of improvement."

"Whatever. I can make men crumble before my feet. I would _love _to show what more I could do, but behind these bars there's little I can do."

Kristoph could sense the woman wanted him to step and do something about that. But honestly, he wasn't interested. He had done the impossible by his standards by getting her a life sentence. Parole? It wasn't happening. She had been deemed a dangerous threat to society that was unable to be rehabilitated.

"I'm a lawyer, not a miracle worker- before you even bother me with such request. No one will allow you parole. You're not a reforming type."

"Aww," the woman's eyes filled up to the brim with giant fake tears for a moment, before she grinned devilishly. "Well, not like it matters anyway, _Krissy_. I do have such a sweet and loving _twin _sister who could be of use..."

**You Oughta Know - Alanis Morissette**

* * *

**DJJ680:**

PPOD: I 100% agree with your assessment. We're both pretty twisted individuals by ourselves, but together? Lol, you might need a few drinks before this over. Preferably something strong.

JP: I'm thinking a stiff one with the equivalent strength of two armed Pinkerton guards! Just no more than that, we want you to still be lucid enough to appreciate the fact that despite the unabashed lunacy of what is to be written in this story, my girl and I Lyn are NOT depraved, sick individuals! We prefer the term "more twisted than a pretzel in a tornado", mostly because "sick" makes it sound like there's a cure! 😜

**Forgreatcoffee:**

PPOD: What a lucky guy! Or unlucky guy depending on you look at it. I bet Larry would have been down for it. Ayup, I agree, Dahlia seems to have this problem on relying or trying to manipulate people to do work for her when she oughta do things herself. She's not as good as it as Kristoph. Lol, perhaps he just woke up one day with a revelation that he banged a succubus haha. Yep, have some weird things in mind so get ready! Thanks! Hope you enjoy!

JP: I imagine the poleaxed Feenie's immediate reaction to knowing he did the Devil's Dance with the Demoness was something along the lines of: "Holy brains in a blender…on purée setting! Somebody get me some BRAIN bleach STAT! It's gonna take something stronger than grape juice to brown out this harrowing memory…"  
Poor Phoenix! In canon, my fave DILF is **still** single since he realized he committed twin-cest by proxy…(no way is a guy that whipped who **didn't** do some pressure-washing of the quiver bone in the bitch wrinkle one) of which was with a Bête Noire so malevolent that she doesn't even need to worship Beelzebub – but only because HE worships HER! 😂

**CzarThwomp:**

PPOD: My God, yes. Kristoph is probably my favorite villain for that alone. Iunno, I honestly feel like he is impervious to pain haha. But then again, you have to wonder where that scar on his hand came from? Maybe he made a deal with the devil somewhere along the line, and those usually require some blood drawing haha.

Whereas other normal pairings with relatively normal characters are based on some foundation of love and care for each other, Dahlstoph is more like how much can we screw other people over and use each other? There's not an ounce of genuine concern for the other which makes it amusing to write. And if Kristoph's clawing anyone's eyes out he's gotta be fabulous in the act haha.

If the two of them can actually work together without their numerous issues getting in the way, they could be pretty deadly. Phoenix overall, should just stop doing anything to be on the safe side xD.

Lol, JP swears out Krissy chan doesn't even wank off normal. Ouch, I think that would hurt. Kristoph getting to Maya before Phoenix did, like haha you were too slow to make any moves...which could leave her talking about how great it was creating a very high standard hard to match or just helping to friendzone Phoenix. Good lord, my eyes have blinded me imagining such dirty imagery of Kristoph banging Maya in order to create hellspawn children. Christ, that could produce some creepy Haunting or Ring like kids. *shudder*

JP: _"Sure, Kristoph probably has the sex drive of a sun-dried rutabaga, but the way I see it, he's the kind of guy who would be more than happy to have a one-night stand if it served as a means to an end- and what end would be better for Kristoph than the satisfaction of knowing that even if Phoenix and Maya got together, his arch nemesis would be stuck with his sloppy seconds?"_

NGHHHHHOOOOOO!

Sweet alligator dentures soaking in formaldehyde, pal! This is how you induce vomiting in the human soul…

Here I thought people shipping poor Ema to be the one souring the kraut of the creepy German sausage was bad enough… but to make my girl crush, poor Maya, be forced to sliming the banana with that turd golem?! Well, at least Krissy would delude himself into thinking it's a _banana_ (mostly because the self-enamored, walking Mt. Everest sized ego with feet radiates smug like Trump underwent gravitational collapse. I bet he believes that if he'd been born Jewish, his bratwurst is so big the mohel had to bring a machete!) but really, it'd be more of a case of the creepsicle dildo wiggling the _toothpick_! 😝

As for Bitchtoff not jerkin' the gherkin like a regular person, yup I stand by this headcanon. I reckon whenever he does his Celebrating Palm Sunday, he's crying his rainbow tartar sauce into a sterile meat sheath while wearing latex gloves… and, as I said to another reader, _in front of a mirror while licking his own reflection! _

_"Too bad you're not a part of the "Ace Attorney" universe, JP, otherwise, you'd probably be more than happy to test that [Looney Tunes] hypothesis by repeatedly slamming Kristoph with Phoenix's piano."_

***snaflatulating moment ensues for a minute straight***

***wipes eyes***

You have me pegged to a T, pal! I'd either do that, or try the good old-fashioned method of will yank his prissy, pristine tighty whities (no way is he studly enough to wear boxers and "hang loose, baby!") over his sissy coifed head so hard, his Arschloch would rip in half! 😈

**Muhammad Sban:**

PPOD: Haha, it was something I had thought about before, but could never find any good ideas for a story to write about them. But my co-author wanted to mess around with the idea of them together, and since we brainstorm cool ideas, I think this will entertaining. I think the only way they'd really succeed is if Dahlia sticks to what she's good at, which is manipulating unsuspecting dudes. Everything beyond that falls apart...repeatedly. Kristoph is more of the planner and had a good run for like 7 years lol.

JP: the story of the toxic twosome, as anything more than a glorified smutty one-shot on A03, amazingly was something that hadn't been done in this fandom at all, either here on FF or on Archive, so Lyn and I are co-op twisted pioneers of sorts! I hope we live up to your expectations, dear reader!

And speaking of _mastery_ things, Kristoph as you can see in this chapter, was obviously the product of too many damn hugs as a child. The reason Dahlstoph can't even be a true love story is because the narcissist Hurensohn is in already too much in love with his own damn self! As you saw this chapter, it's like he can't even smugly list his own personal achievements even mentally without giving himself a virtual hand job over his own life's work! And no doubt his _actual_ palm mastery, aka badgering the witness, is done in front of a mirror while licking his own reflection! 😝

Cheers,  
JP


End file.
